The Attack
by Evasion Books
Summary: The Grounders attack. They want Lincoln. And talking doesn't seem like an option. How many will be wounded? Or lost? The whole camp will suffer, its only doctor, and its leader as well. Will they get through it? Will Clarke and Bellamy manage to prevail? Bellarke story set between and after 1x07 - 1x08 (they got guns, but Lincoln is still a captive). We'll see where this goes...!
1. Grounders

**Here's a little something to get you guys started. Just watched season 1 of The 100 and couldn't not write this so here ya go. It's something of a prologue I guess. All I know is that there will be more. It's set after 1x07 - 1x08 so they have the guns, but I've decided that Lincoln still held captive... For now! *queu evil laugh* Enjoy! PS: I don.'t own the 100 sadly... If I did, Bellamy and Clarke would be all over each other by now!**

The cry tore through the camp, cutting through the heavy rain pounding the ground, shredding all hope at a peaceful morning to pieces. They were here. For a few seconds, nothing happened. As if time stopped, everything and everyone stood still. The guards at the main gate, Monroe and Miller among them, balanced on the tips of their toes, their guns slung over their shoulders, eyes frozen, unblinking, and wide with fear. Myles and two other younger delinquents, hands still dunked into the food containers, halted halfway through a bag of nuts, heads snapped towards the front gate. Jasper stopped in the middle of explaining to Octavia how to make his famous moonshine, arms still in midair from gesturing, Octavia sitting across from him on her makeshift bed, her stomach churning at the thought of Lincoln still tied up on the third level of the drop ship. Monty's hands stilled over the radio's button, white noise filling his ears through the headset. Raven still holding an unopened bullet, her neck twisted towards Finn who sat up on his elbow, blood already seeping through the bandage on his stab wound. Bellamy and Clarke, still staring intensely at each other, their argument long forgotten. Harper, a hand on her knife, her mouth unhinged, staring at Connor who had just yelled the words they all dreaded. And a Grounder, standing before the two, barely twenty feet from them, fifty feet from the wall, a bow strung to its breaking point, an arrow gleaming in the early light.

"We've come for Lincoln."

All hell broke loose.

**Please RR! Or don't... S'up to you really. But reviews do make writers write faster :D**


	2. The Gate

**Oi! Little of a filler here, just an inbetweener between the prologuish thingy and the awsome fight scene I've got all planned out *evil laugh* But don't worry! Action, adventure, Bellarke fluff is all coming up! Because (and I quote the awsome person who came up with this) Shit is about to hit the fan! *more evil laughing* And a quick thanks to those who've favorited and followed and reviewd this 'fic! Love you guys !**

**Disclaimer : Don't own it, but I can always dream... Unless this is a dream... Than I own it! But I don't...**

Two gun shots rang loud and clear before Clarke came back to her sense. She blinked away the images of Finn lying unconscious on her operation table and of Jasper with a spear through his chest and took a breath to steady her racing heart. Bellamy was already at the tent's flap, gun in hand. Clarke looked around quickly for a weapon and found one of Bellamy's sharpened knifes lying beside his makeshift bed. She pocketed the item and turned to find Bellamy eying her, indecision clear across his features, something that didn't happen often. He clearly didn't want their only doctor out on the battlefield, but with their faltering numbers, they needed as many fighters as they could get. He bit his lower lip, his grip tightening around his gun, but the yells outside the tent where enough to convince Clarke.

"C'mon!" She urged him. Bellamy's cold gaze faltered for barely a second before he made up his mind.

"Ok, but stay behind me and take this." He ordered, handing her a second knife. She took a second o look at it. This one wasn't made of scrap metal, it was dark brown, almost black, intricate lines carved along the hilt. The Grounder's knife. The one she had torn out of Finn's side. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, but kept the knife tight in her hand, her knuckles turning white. "If you die, so does the camp. Stay low and avoid any direct attack -"

"If we don't go out to help them, there won't be camp to save!" She cut him off. It was the first time he had remotely told her she was useful and needed here, but it was no time to bathe in her small victory. Bellamy hesitated for a second longer, as if trying to carve her face into his memory before ducking out of the tent, followed closely by Clarke. She could have sworn she saw something there, in his dark eyes. Concern? She didn't have time to think it over. All soon as she stepped into the pouring rain someone tackled her to the ground. Her head snapped back, hitting the hard packed earth with a resonating _thud_, the Grounder's knife skittering out of her hand. Her first instinct was to push the mass off her, rolling from under the body and scrambling back to her feet, reaching for her second knife. Her vision darkened at the corners and she swayed a little. They couldn't have already breached the wall, could they?

Bellamy was beside her in seconds, grabbing the rather small boy by the collar of his shirt, his fist ready to disfigure the Grounder. Clarke's vision cleared for a second and she recognized the boy Bellamy was about to beat to death.

"Wait!" She yelled, grabbing Bellamy's forearm to try to stop him from punching the poor scared boy. "It's Myles." The boy nodded vigorously. Bellamy's shoulder's relaxed just a bit and he lowered the mud covered teen back to the ground.

"Myles? What are you doing here? You should be at the gate with the rest of the gunners!" Bellamy growled, his tone more frightening than the punch he menaced Myles with seconds ago.

"I came to get you! Miller sent me. He said to tell you the situation at the gate." Myles informed the duo. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his gun rattling at his side. Clark and Bellamy both leaned in to hear said situation, but Myles just stood there, looking at both of them intently.

"Well?" Bellamy almost yelled, anger boiling inside him like a pot about to overflow.

"Oh! Right." Myles smiled sheepishly. "There are about a dozen Grounders. They haven't breached the wall yet, but we can't hold them back much longer."

"But there is over 90 of us! How could they be over powering us so easily?" Clarke asked Myles as Bellamy turned on his heels and ran towards the wall, no more information needed.

"They are more experienced and better fighters than we are. They could easily kill us all, but they aren't. There are fighting to get through the gate, wounding but not killing us. They just want Lincoln" He answered, starting as well towards the gate, Clarke right beside him. The tent section of the camp was deserted, the wall on the other hand, was chaotic. The crowd of nearly one hundred teens armed with guns and knives pushed around to get to the wall. The gate was still closed but the gunners where up on top of the wall, shooting down whatever they saw. But they were falling like flies. And arrow in the shoulder, stone to the chest, hit to the head, the gunners fell of the wall, leaving the others to scramble for their gun.

"So, no dead?" She summed up.

"None… Yet." He answered grimly.

"Wounded?"

"Too many to count." Myles sent her an apologetic smile, knowing how much work this meant for her. Clarke swore under her breath, already imagining how much blood she would have on her hands at the end of the day. They reached the gate seconds after Bellamy, following him through the crowd of armed delinquents.

"Miller!" He yelled. As if under Bellamy's control, the crowd parted for him and he raced down the newly created path, followed closely by Clarke and Myles. Off to the right of the gate, Miller kneeled over a semi-conscious Monroe.

"Clarke!" Miller yelled when he saw her. "Monroe's hurt!" Clarke pushed past Bellamy and kneeled beside the whimpering girl. She did a quick once over. An arrow stuck out of Monroe's right shoulder, a few bruises started to paint her face purple, but except for that, she seemed fine.

"Nothing fatal." Clarke concluded, drawing an overly relieved breath from Miller. "Get her to the drop ship and put a few pieces of cloth around the arrow to stop the bleeding, but don't move it. I'll get there as soon as I can." Miller nodded and picked Monroe up, which seemed ridiculous considering Monroe's legs worked fine, and tiresome because of her rather large build, and started towards the drop ship.

"Miller, wait!" Bellamy called. Miller looked over his shoulder, signaling to Bellamy to talk fast.

"My sister?"

"Drop ship."

Bellamy's shoulder's relaxed instantly.

"Get Octavia to help!" Clarke yelled over the screams and gun fire. Miller nodded before disappearing behind a wave of people. Clarke's gaze lifted back to the few gunners left, less than half a dozen. She took out the knife she'd gotten from Bellamy's tent and turned to him. He was the only one who could pull the delinquents together to fight, to open the gate and kill the Grounders. Bellamy took a second to take a deep breath before turning to the crowd of criminals standing before him like an army stands before its commanding officer.

"We were sent to earth to die!" He yelled, his voice travelling across the camp like an epidemic. Everyone feel silent. Even the gun fires seemed to dim a little, letting Bellamy's voice rule the air. "But we proved to the Arc and its people that we don't need them. That we can survive without them! That we can do whatever the hell we want, and no Arc, no Chancellor, and hell, no Grounder is going to stop us!" Just like that, Bellamy had a hundred dangerous criminals in the palm of his hand. "Open the gate!"

**Ohhh so much shit is going to hit the fannnnn...! I feel a little evil about this sorta almost cliffy, but not really cuz it's not a cliffhanger for you guys, but I know what's coming up next, so I still feel evilllll! Let me be... And I've just noticed that I babble a lot of nonsense in my A/N... Oh well! Don't forget to review and favorite and follow and breath and what ever else you people reading this do! **

**- Okiony**


	3. The Fight

**Hey! I'm back! I'm sooo sorry, but I've been out of the country for the last three weeks without any internet connection so I had to resort to pen and paper which isn't so bad exept ya know... Ya can't really show it to a bunch of people at the same time. But anyway! I've written this up to make up for it. I pretty much wrote and posted it so if there are any grammar errors please tell me and I'm sorry in advance! Now, get ready for shit to hit the fannn! **

**And of course I don't owe anything exept my plot and it's twists and turns :D**

The gate swung open and a hundred armed criminals rushed out, met halfway by the twelve biggest grounders Clarke had ever seen. They all stood in a perfect line, legs spread, weapons high, ready to fight. If their stance didn't scare her, their eyes did. Twelve pairs of bloodshot gazes scanned the crowd, looking for something, or someone they couldn't seem to find. Hatred twisted their strong traits into disturbing devilish grins. Bellamy was the first to reach them, leading his army of teenage delinquents to what look very similar to a suicide mission. Metal hit metal with a deafening screech, and the rest was a blur.

Clarke's mind was going a thousand miles an hour. She scanned the open area outside the gate, registering Harper and Connor who lied unconscious beside the wall, bloody gashes across their foreheads. She pulled the first two people she saw out of the fight, ordering them to get both unconscious teens to the drop ship. They didn't argue and left, one of them handing her his gun.

"Only two bullets left!" He yelled over the war cries the 100 seemed unable to restrain themselves from screaming. She nodded and turned back to the fight. All she was seeing was red. Not anger, but blood. God, so much blood everywhere. Cuts, gashes, wounds, covering so many, too many. _No one is dead. _She reminded herself, taking a breath and pushing the gun's hilt up against her shoulder, just like Bellamy had told her. She was slightly off to the left of the epicenter of the fight, just far enough to have a good angle. Between the blur of teens running around and screaming, she could make out the grounders. They were taller than most, and their death glares where easier to spot than fear stained features. _Two bullets. Make it count. _She repeated to herself. She ducked her head and peered through the scope. Scouring the crowd for a masked face. The first she saw was trying to get to the gate, barely held back by three kids, none of them older than fifteen. She swore under her breath before placing a steady finder on the trigger. This was just like pulling the knife out of Finn. _Steady hand Clarke, you can do this. _She breathed out, the grounder's chest clear in her shot, and pulled the trigger.

She breathed in a relieved breath when she saw the grounder fall as the kids scrambled around him, wondering where the shot had come from. A smile tugged at her lips, Bellamy would be proud. At the thought of their leader, she scanned the crowd. Barely three dozen delinquents where still up and fighting, more and more being dragged back behind the walls of the camp. Nine of the original twelve grounders where still standing, braving wave after wave of desperate teenagers.

Clarke stopped Bellamy right in the middle of the fight, braving the scariest grounder of the twelve. _Of course he is._ She thought, holder the gun up to her eye level. The shot was tricky, Bellamy always seemed the jump in front of the grounder just as she was about to shoot. Dammit, he could take care of himself. Clarke was about to change targets when she saw the grounder swing at Bellamy with the deadliest looking knife she'd ever seen. He jumped back but not fast enough, the blade catching his side. He let out a yelp going from surprise to pain and fell to his knees in front of a grounder looking well intent on killing him. Clasping his side with on hand, the other went to his belt looking for a knife, but he was unarmed. The grounder lifted the knife and without thinking, Clarke shot. It must have been the adrenaline coursing through her veins, or maybe the fear of one of the hundred dying, _of Bellamy dying,_ because the bullet hit the grounder in the heart. The mass of muscle crumbled to the ground without a sound before Bellamy's shocked gaze. He twisted his head to see where the shot had come from and smiled when he saw Clarke. She stood a good twenty feet away, the gun still held in her delicate hands, her hair creating a golden halo around her face. God, even tired and dirty she still looked like a princess. She looked bloody elegant standing there. He couldn't stop his lips from stretching into one of his signature smirks. The women might drive him insane half the time, but she was still the most attractive thing he'd seen since they had landed on the damn planet.

Clarke let her arms drop to her sides with a relieved breath, her whole body was shaking, tremors of adrenaline shooting through her as if she'd touched on of the blue cables Raven had used to electrocute Lincoln. She felt a warm ball of emotion form in her chest as Bellamy smirked up at her. She was just happy he wasn't dead. She smiled back at him, momentarily forgetting the fight happening around them. For a few seconds time slowed to a stop, blue eyes colliding with brown in a fight so much more dangerous than the one raging around them. She didn't know the outcome of such a battle and didn't have time to think about it when she realised Bellamy's expression had twisted into a rare expression of fear.

"Clarke! Behind you!" He yelled, his eyes glued to something over her shoulder. Clarke spun on her heals, reaching for her knife when something hard collided with the side of her head. She crumbled faster than a pile of leaves blown away by an autumn wind. He head hit the ground last, but when it did, the pain already irradiating from the impact site quadrupled. A foreign sound escaped Clarke's lips. It like a muffled scream, but she couldn't be sure, her senses momentarily knocked into a state of uselessness. He vision wavered in and out of focus, black dots blinding her, her tongue was coated in a thick substance that tasted like metal, and a persistent ringing echoed in her ears, blocking out every other sound. Pounding pain hammered the inside of her skull relentlessly. Clarke felt like she was going to throw up.

Then two brown eyes entered her receding field of vision and she pushed everything back, concentrating on those two dark orbs. Clarke blinked away the black dots and fuzziness and tried to sit up. Bad idea. She immediately felt sick, a wave of dizziness crashing into her. She closed her eyes for a second, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"You ok Princess?" Bellamy asked. Clarke took a second to assess her physical state. Head ache, nausea, dizziness… It definitely felt like a concussion. She blinked again, trying to focus on Bellamy. When she saw the blood staining his shirt, she immediately forgot about the pain in her head.

"Bellamy you need to get to the drop ship. Get Octavia or Monty to sterilize -" Clarke said as she scrambled to her feet, but as soon as she was standing, the whole world tipped. Bellamy grabbed her forearms before she could fall. Clarke closed her eyes for a second, waiting for the dizziness to fade.

"Clarke… You sure you're alright?" She looked up at her name and was surprised to see genuine concern in his pretty brown eyes. _Wait, pretty? _She was definitely concussed.

"I'm fine." She immediately leg go off Bellamy, tipping a little, but standing her ground. The battle was still ragging on around them. But barely five grounders still standing somewhat up right. At her feet laid a dead grounder, Bellamy's knife sticking out of his chest. Clarke was about to tell him to get into the drop ship before he aggravated his wound when a horn blew somewhere off into the distance. Both their heads snapped towards the forest.

All the grounders suddenly stopped fighting. The delinquents still standing all took a step back in surprise. Everyone looked around confused until the grounder turned away from camp and disappeared into the forest without a sound.

"What just happened?" Bellamy asked, turning towards the camp's only doctor. She heaved a sigh.

"I don't know, and I'll care about it later. Keep pressure on that wound and get to the drop ship." Her imperious tone left no place for argument. _She's acting like a real princess now. _Bellamy snicker to himself before starting towards the drop ship. Clarke took a few steps towards the remaining criminals-turned-soldiers, trying not to topple over. God, her head hurt like hell.

"Round up everyone who is wounded and hurt and get them to the drop ship. For those who aren't hurt; go clean up, eat and rest, you get the rest of the day off. Now hurry up!" She ordered, heading off towards the drop ship herself.

"I don't want anyone bleeding out in the grass before I get them on my operation table." She muttered. The gate swung open and a hundred armed criminals rushed out, met halfway by the twelve biggest grounders Clarke had ever seen. They all stood in a perfect line, legs spread, weapons high, ready to fight. If their stance didn't scare her, their eyes did. Twelve pairs of bloodshot gazes scanned the crowd, looking for something, or someone they couldn't seem to find. Hatred twisted their strong traits into disturbing devilish grins. Bellamy was the first to reach them, leading his army of teenage delinquents to what look very similar to a suicide mission. Metal hit metal with a deafening screech, and the rest was a blur.

Clarke's mind was going a thousand miles an hour. She scanned the open area outside the gate, registering Harper and Connor who lied unconscious beside the wall, bloody gashes across their foreheads. She pulled the first two people she saw out of the fight, ordering them to get both unconscious teens to the drop ship. They didn't argue and left, one of them handing her his gun.

"Only two bullets left!" He yelled over the war cries the 100 seemed unable to restrain themselves from screaming. She nodded and turned back to the fight. All she was seeing was red. Not anger, but blood. God, so much blood everywhere. Cuts, gashes, wounds, covering so many, too many. _No one is dead. _She reminded herself, taking a breath and pushing the gun's hilt up against her shoulder, just like Bellamy had told her. She was slightly off to the left of the epicenter of the fight, just far enough to have a good angle. Between the blur of teens running around and screaming, she could make out the grounders. They were taller than most, and their death glares where easier to spot than fear stained features. _Two bullets. Make it count. _She repeated to herself. She ducked her head and peered through the scope. Scouring the crowd for a masked face. The first she saw was trying to get to the gate, barely held back by three kids, none of them older than fifteen. She swore under her breath before placing a steady finder on the trigger. This was just like pulling the knife out of Finn. _Steady hand Clarke, you can do this. _She breathed out, the grounder's chest clear in her shot, and pulled the trigger.

She breathed in a relieved breath when she saw the grounder fall as the kids scrambled around him, wondering where the shot had come from. A smile tugged at her lips, Bellamy would be proud. At the thought of their leader, she scanned the crowd. Barely three dozen delinquents where still up and fighting, more and more being dragged back behind the walls of the camp. Nine of the original twelve grounders where still standing, braving wave after wave of desperate teenagers.

Clarke stopped Bellamy right in the middle of the fight, braving the scariest grounder of the twelve. _Of course he is._ She thought, holder the gun up to her eye level. The shot was tricky, Bellamy always seemed the jump in front of the grounder just as she was about to shoot. Dammit, he could take care of himself. Clarke was about to change targets when she saw the grounder swing at Bellamy with the deadliest looking knife she'd ever seen. He jumped back but not fast enough, the blade catching his side. He let out a yelp going from surprise to pain and fell to his knees in front of a grounder looking well intent on killing him. Clasping his side with on hand, the other went to his belt looking for a knife, but he was unarmed. The grounder lifted the knife and without thinking, Clarke shot. It must have been the adrenaline coursing through her veins, or maybe the fear of one of the hundred dying, _of Bellamy dying,_ because the bullet hit the grounder in the heart. The mass of muscle crumbled to the ground without a sound before Bellamy's shocked gaze. He twisted his head to see where the shot had come from and smiled when he saw Clarke. She stood a good twenty feet away, the gun still held in her delicate hands, her hair creating a golden halo around her face. God, even tired and dirty she still looked like a princess. She looked bloody elegant standing there. He couldn't stop his lips from stretching into one of his signature smirks. The women might drive him insane half the time, but she was still the most attractive thing he'd seen since they had landed on the damn planet.

Clarke let her arms drop to her sides with a relieved breath, her whole body was shaking, tremors of adrenaline shooting through her as if she'd touched on of the blue cables Raven had used to electrocute Lincoln. She felt a warm ball of emotion form in her chest as Bellamy smirked up at her. She was just happy he wasn't dead. She smiled back at him, momentarily forgetting the fight happening around them. For a few seconds time slowed to a stop, blue eyes colliding with brown in a fight so much more dangerous than the one raging around them. She didn't know the outcome of such a battle and didn't have time to think about it when she realised Bellamy's expression had twisted into a rare expression of fear.

"Clarke! Behind you!" He yelled, his eyes glued to something over her shoulder. Clarke spun on her heals, reaching for her knife when something hard collided with the side of her head. She crumbled faster than a pile of leaves blown away by an autumn wind. He head hit the ground last, but when it did, the pain already irradiating from the impact site quadrupled. A foreign sound escaped Clarke's lips. It like a muffled scream, but she couldn't be sure, her senses momentarily knocked into a state of uselessness. He vision wavered in and out of focus, black dots blinding her, her tongue was coated in a thick substance that tasted like metal, and a persistent ringing echoed in her ears, blocking out every other sound. Pounding pain hammered the inside of her skull relentlessly. Clarke felt like she was going to throw up.

Then two brown eyes entered her receding field of vision and she pushed everything back, concentrating on those two dark orbs. Clarke blinked away the black dots and fuzziness and tried to sit up. Bad idea. She immediately felt sick, a wave of dizziness crashing into her. She closed her eyes for a second, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"You ok Princess?" Bellamy asked. Clarke took a second to assess her physical state. Head ache, nausea, dizziness… It definitely felt like a concussion. She blinked again, trying to focus on Bellamy. When she saw the blood staining his shirt, she immediately forgot about the pain in her head.

"Bellamy you need to get to the drop ship. Get Octavia or Monty to sterilize -" Clarke said as she scrambled to her feet, but as soon as she was standing, the whole world tipped. Bellamy grabbed her forearms before she could fall. Clarke closed her eyes for a second, waiting for the dizziness to fade.

"Clarke… You sure you're alright?" She looked up at her name and was surprised to see genuine concern in his pretty brown eyes. _Wait, pretty? _She was definitely concussed.

"I'm fine." She immediately leg go off Bellamy, tipping a little, but standing her ground. The battle was still ragging on around them. But barely five grounders still standing somewhat up right. At her feet laid a dead grounder, Bellamy's knife sticking out of his chest. Clarke was about to tell him to get into the drop ship before he aggravated his wound when a horn blew somewhere off into the distance. Both their heads snapped towards the forest.

All the grounders suddenly stopped fighting. The delinquents still standing all took a step back in surprise. Everyone looked around confused until the grounder turned away from camp and disappeared into the forest without a sound.

"What just happened?" Bellamy asked, turning towards the camp's only doctor. She heaved a sigh.

"I don't know, and I'll care about it later. Keep pressure on that wound and get to the drop ship." Her imperious tone left no place for argument. _She's acting like a real princess now. _Bellamy snicker to himself before starting towards the drop ship. Clarke took a few steps towards the remaining criminals-turned-soldiers, trying not to topple over. God, her head hurt like hell.

"Round up everyone who is wounded and hurt and get them to the drop ship. For those who aren't hurt; go clean up, eat and rest, you get the rest of the day off. Now hurry up!" She ordered, heading off towards the drop ship herself.

"I don't want anyone bleeding out in the grass before I get them on my operation table." She muttered.

***Evil laugh* It might not sound evil to you but I assure you the Bellarke fluff I've got coming up should be illegal. Aaah Bellarke. We shall never get enough of you! Ok enough! I should have the next chapter up soon enough so do not fret, the fluff is coming! I promis! Please push that little review button down there, I love getting them and they make me write faster! Which can be good in my case...!**

**- Okyony **


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